


Remedy

by westernredcedar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bad tea, Canon Character Deaths (not them), First War with Voldemort, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westernredcedar/pseuds/westernredcedar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything. -Kurt Vonnegut</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for captain_tulip at Snupin Santa 2007.  
> Prompt: Post-MWPP but pre-Professor!Snape -- angsty. Werewolf regulations are tightening on Remus and Snape's just starting to realise his mistake in joining the Death Eaters. They bump into each other in someplace scummy -- a rundown inn, perhaps? -- and things start to get interesting.  
> Quotes are from “Cat’s Cradle” by Kurt Vonnegut. Thank you betas!

Remus had been awake for almost forty hours, but he knew his mind would not allow him to rest for some time yet. He wanted a drink. No, he needed a drink.

He staggered into the ancient pub, bringing with him a flurry of snow and a blast of cold air. The few patrons looked up at him for a moment and he hastily drew his tattered cloak more tightly around himself. He didn’t think they would be able to identify that the stains on his robe were, in fact, blood, but he didn’t want to risk it.

The pub was dim, just the way Remus liked it. It was easy to hide. The atmosphere was warm and smelled of old wood and stale cigarettes and weary human bodies. He made his way across the room and hunched into his usual booth. Trying to settle his shaking hands, he started rolling a fag.

He was known here. The regulars gave him curt nods of recognition. Remus had been living in one of the pub’s shabby rooms for the past week

The barman wandered over to Remus’s booth.

“A pint for you, young scholar?”

Remus looked up and nodded. “Thanks, Clive.”

“You all right?” Clive asked, peering at Remus’s battered face. “That’s quite a shiner. Must’ve been one hell of a party.”

“It was,” replied Remus. When he had walked out of the pub the day previous (had that only been a day ago?) in his rented dress robes and carrying a gift, Clive had grinned and asked him what the occasion might be.

“Wedding,” Remus had replied. “Two of my best friends from school.”

“Well, ain’t that something!” Clive had replied, his ruddy face alight. “Blessings on ‘em both.”

Remus did not want Clive to notice that under his cloak he was still wearing the same now-ruined dress robes, even though the wedding had ended over twenty-four hours before. Distracted by a movement in the window, Remus’s eyes darted again to the door, and he was hit with a wave of nauseating fear.

“You waiting on someone?” Clive asked.

“Nah,” Remus said, shaking his head with a weak smile. He was currently on the run for his life, but he couldn’t explain that, so instead he smiled. “Just me and my thoughts again.”

“You here tomorrow?” asked Clive.

“Don’t think I have anywhere else to go,” said Remus, eyeing the door again. “You going to be open?”

“I’d be quite a bastard if I threw you out on your ear at Christmas. I just thought a young man like yourself might have a family to go home to.”

Remus shook his head with a sheepish grin. “Afraid you’re it right now, Clive.”

“Well, I’ll be glad to have you.”

“Besides, I like what you’ve done with the place.” Remus indicated the meagre decorations: a small plastic tree on the bar, an old string of fairy lights, several of which appeared to be dead or passed out, and some limp tinsel draped along the ceiling. 

“Just call me Father Christmas,” said the big man with a grin, walking back towards the bar for Remus’s beer.

“I’ll do that,” said Remus, licking his rolling paper and lighting up.

He pulled a tattered book from his pocket and started to read, sipping at the lager that Clive brought him, taking long drags on his cigarette to settle his frayed nerves. The more time that passed, the safer he felt. Perhaps he would get out of this.

Vonnegut, as usual, mirrored his mood. As he rolled another cigarette, he read: _Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything._ He wished he could laugh.

The door flew open and a man stumbled in, deeply hooded and swathed in layers of black cloth. He let in a blast of icy air and a swirl of snow, and slammed the door behind himself quickly. The few customers lifted their heads to acknowledge their new companion, and then returned to their drinks.

Remus did not look down, but stared at the newcomer. He recognized him right away, even through the layers of cloaks, even before seeing his long lank hair, his thin, tense shoulders.

Snape.

Fuck.

What the fuck was he doing here?

Snape threw his hood back, knocking a glittering rain of snow onto the floor of the pub. He was paler than Remus remembered, but he had not seen him for over two years, not since their last day at Hogwarts. His black eyes were darting through the room, and he was clutching his arms around himself.

Remus burrowed into his book, hoping his former classmate might not notice him. The last thing he wanted was to be distracted by Severus Snape when Death Eaters stormed the place looking for him. He peered above the pages of his book to see what Snape was up to.

The dark-haired man was pulling off his gloves and cloak, looking round the pub at the meagre clientele with an utterly dismissive sneer. Remus found himself wanting to smile at Snape’s dramatics, and, losing focus for a moment, he failed to look away when Snape caught his eye.

Snape froze, and held Remus’s stare. Even from across the pub, Remus could sense the tension that shivered through Snape’s thin body.

There was an awkward stillness. Remus knew they could not avoid a conversation now, but the desire to turn away and pretend the other person was not there was palpable. Remus should stand, invite the other man to join him, be the friendly ambassador he usually was, but this was Severus Snape, and with him it was far more complicated than that.

Finally, it was Severus who made the first move, visibly steeling up his shoulders and taking a deep breath before striding towards Remus’s booth. His robes made a slight billow behind him, and Remus forced down a smirk.

“Lupin.”

“Severus.”

There was a pause, and Remus let out his breath. He had not noticed he was holding it.

“Why don’t you join me for a drink?” Remus asked.

“Would you like me to list the reasons?” Severus replied.

Remus’s eyes darted again to the door as it opened and another patron entered. He tensed, but it was only a harmless looking witch, and he breathed out and turned back to Severus.

“Sorry?” Remus said. “What did you say?”

Severus’s eyes glittered. “Yes. A drink. That would be acceptable.” He sat down in the booth across from Remus and folded his hands neatly on the table on front of him. Remus scooted his empty beer glass and ashtray out of the way, and wiped down the table with the edge of his cloak. Severus watched this in attentive silence.

“You are the last person I thought I’d see in a place like this,” said Remus.

“I did not expect to see you here either,” replied Severus, with a dark tinge to his voice. Remus squinted at him curiously.

Clive wandered over, wiping his hands on a towel, to take their order.

“Another pint for me, Clive, and whatever my friend here wants.”

Severus looked up at the word 'friend,' and met Remus’s eyes for moment, before turning to Clive and drawling, “Firewhiskey. Double.”

“Coming up, gents,” said Clive in a subdued tone, looking back and forth between them before backing away towards the bar.

Once Clive was out of earshot, Severus murmured, “Don’t condescend to me, Lupin. We are not friends.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “So what are we?”

“Nothing,” Severus replied.

“Ah.” Remus leaned back. “Well, this should be a pleasant drink then.”

Severus glared at him, but did not respond. Clive brought the drinks over and set them down in the silence.

“You need anything more, Mister Lupin?” he asked, before leaving them alone.

“I think not,” said Remus, holding Severus’s gaze.

Clive walked away with a glance back at Remus, but Remus ignored the concern in his face and stayed focused on the difficult man in front of him. His exhaustion made it challenging to fake pleasantries.

“So. What have you been doing for the last two years?” he asked, leaning back and taking a long drag.

“Nothing that would interest you,” Severus replied in a dismissive tone. “What happened to your face?” he continued, nodding his head to refer to Remus’s swollen and blackened eye.

“A fist hit it.” Remus felt no need to elaborate.

“Very witty. Any fist that I know?”

The scene flashed through Remus’s mind. He could see the rented hall, the dance floor, feel the four glasses of cheap wine in his blood, smell the sweetness of the cake and the mingled perfume of the flowers and the over-dressed women. He couldn’t remember exactly what had set Sirius off. They had been politely cordial, but Remus had asked Lily about Severus, and Sirius said something about Remus being too secretive, spending too much time with ‘his sort’, and then asked him to admit his real loyalties. The confrontation had certainly escalated due to the too-much tequila Sirius had drunk, and the fact that Remus hadn’t wanted to listen to Sirius’s suspicious, jealous bullshit. Sirius had taken the first swing.

“No. No one you know,” said Remus after a pause.

“Ah,” replied Severus.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you.” Severus’s tone said just the opposite. He sipped at his whiskey. “Whoever it was is lucky it wasn’t the full moon.”

“No,” said Remus, “he was lucky I didn’t fight back.”

“Some sort of honorable werewolf rubbish, refusing to use your enhanced strength or some such nonsense,” muttered Severus, reaching for Remus’s pouch of tobacco without asking, and starting to roll a cigarette for himself.

“Something like that,” replied Remus, noticing with interest that Severus’s long fingers were shaking as he manipulated the rolling paper. “Feel free to help yourself.”

“I do.” Severus finished his rolling and ran his tongue along the edge of the paper. He had to try a few times, and Remus realized his mouth must be dry. “Who punched you?” Severus asked again, as he lit up.

Remus chose to ignore the question. Instead he said, “I was at James’s wedding yesterday,” as if Severus had asked.

Remus had made the comment knowing it would distract Severus from asking about his bruise, but the deep flush that swept Severus’s face, the angry clenching of his jaw, and the dark shadow that passed over his eyes was a reaction far more intense than any Remus imagined.

“I know,” was all he said in reply.

“I thought you might be there.” That was true. He had thought about Severus as he had dressed, wondering if Lily would invite him, and whether they would speak, and what they would say.

“No. I was not there.”

“I would’ve thought Lil…” Remus started.

“I was not there.” Severus cut him off with a glare.

“Oh. Well, it was a lovely ceremony,” Remus said, and Severus made a small noise in his throat. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“No,” said Severus as he ran his finger along a scar in the table and averted his eyes. Remus took the opportunity to quickly scan the room and noticed a new wizard, heavily hooded, had entered the pub. The newcomer was peering around from beneath the hood, and making no move to sit or buy a drink. Remus’s heartbeat accelerated.

“Are you expecting someone?” asked Severus, noting Remus’s distraction. Remus downed the remainder of his pint and dropped the empty glass to the table. The sick fear had returned.

“No. Let’s get out of here.” Remus said, rising to his feet. He needed to get out of sight. He had taken enough of a risk staying this long in the pub.

“Excuse me?” said Severus, suddenly tensed.

“I have a room here, and I would like to go to it. I’m very tired. I’m inviting you to join me, or not, but I’m going there now,” said Remus, stubbing out the end of his fag and grabbing his cloak around him, keeping one eye on the newcomer, who had not yet looked in his direction. As he stood, Remus was not sure he had been fast enough to hide the bloody mess under his cloak, and Severus’s eyes lingered on him for a long moment. Remus realized he might need to be a bit more specific with Severus in order to make a quick exit. “This is not a proposition, Severus, I just would like to get to my room. Are you coming? I have tea.”

Severus swallowed hard.

“And whiskey,” Remus added.

Severus’s eyes eased over to the hooded man, who was stalking through the pub in their direction. The stranger had not seen them yet.

“Tea, yes,” he said, and stood, pulling his cloak back on.

The narrow hallways of the inn were dark and quiet, and Remus walked quickly, hoping Severus was keeping up. His room was at the top of an ancient and cramped staircase. He fumbled with his key, but managed to get the door open.

Remus led Severus into his small, shabby room. It did not sound as if anyone was following them. The stairs were quite creaky, and it would be hard for them to be surprised. Remus began to breath more easily. He walked to the blackened fireplace, crouched to stack a few pieces of wood, and pulled out his wand to light a fire. He felt more relaxed having made it to his room, but now realized that he had, in fact, invited Severus for a drink, and he had to follow through. All he really wanted to do was lock the door, set a few protection charms, and sleep. “Have a seat, I’ll put on the tea.”

Remus turned.

Severus was standing in the doorway with his wand out, pointed right at him.

“What are you doing?” Remus asked, startled.

Severus’s eyes were hard, and his lips thin and tight. He held his position for a moment and then he lowered his wand. “I thought you might need help with the fire,” he said in an undertone.

“No, I’ve got it going, thanks,” Remus said with a curious look. Severus had been pointing his wand at him, not at the fire. “The tea pot is on that little table,” he continued, trying to sound casual.

“You were always frustratingly fond of sodding tea,” Severus said in an irritated tone, shoving his wand into his sleeve.

“I don’t recall you turning down a cup if offered,” Remus responded.

Severus entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Only to be polite, Lupin.”

Remus brushed off the vague misgiving caused by Severus’s strange behavior. “You? Polite? That seems unlikely,” he said.

Severus gave him the sly, familiar look that Remus had not seen for two years. It sent little shivers of pleasure down Remus’s spine. “Point taken,” said Severus. He settled into the tattered armchair before the fireplace, pulling off his outer cloak.

As the fire picked up in the grate, Remus started to heat up as well. He knew he looked ridiculous sitting in his warm outer layers in front of the flames. Taking a deep breath, he slowly peeled the cloak off and revealed his ruined clothing beneath.

“What the hell happened to you, Lupin?” Severus asked. He was eyeing Remus’s gory dress robes with interest.

“It’s not my blood,” said Remus, not wishing to elaborate, starting to unbutton the stained, stiffened robes. It was relief to get them off.

“Finally managed to eat someone, have you? Life’s dream fulfilled?” Severus retorted, and Remus froze. He felt the color drain from his face, and he held back the urge to punch Severus in the face, a burst of anger bubbling in him. “Fuck off, Severus. Shut up about what you don’t know.” His voice was dangerous. It was all he could manage without having to actually think about where the blood had come from.

Severus gripped the arms of his chair and looked down at the worn carpet at his feet.

“What did happen?” Severus asked, the mocking tone now gone from his voice. When Remus looked at his robes in the firelight, a fresh wave of nausea passed over him, and the horrible reality of the previous night suddenly slammed into him like Sirius’s fist. It was a massive amount of blood.

In order to stop himself from retching in front of Severus, Remus swallowed deep and walked towards the tea set. “Do you care for a bit of whiskey in yours?” he asked, and he felt his throat constricting. He pulled off the crusty robes and let them fall to the floor as he walked. His trousers were not too bloodied, but he needed a bath. He reached for a tattered cardigan on his bedpost to cover his bare chest.

“Yes,” said Severus, averting his eyes, his voice suddenly husky and constricted. “Whiskey.”

Remus tried to steady his trembling hands as he served the tea, but he failed, and the spout chattered against the lip of the cups as he poured. Severus did not ask any more questions, but sat very still in the shadows cast by the fire. Remus added a healthy shot of whiskey to both of their cups, stretched his arms to compose himself, and returned to the fireside.

The two men sat within their own thoughts for several minutes, sipping at their tea. Severus finally broke the silence.

"This is utterly foul," he said, lips pursed, looking into his cup of whiskey and tea.

"It is, isn't it? I'm afraid the whiskey was a poor choice," replied Remus, and a hint of camaraderie sparked between them. They both placed their cups on the floor and sat back in their chairs. Remus sighed.

Severus looked down at his hands and spoke. “The wedding was…successful?” It was the calmest voice Remus had ever heard Severus use.

“Yes, it was. Lily looked very happy.” Remus knew that was all he cared to hear about. “Did you know it was happening?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“As am I.” Severus gripped his own arm for a brief moment.

“She said she didn’t know where you were,” Remus said. “You haven’t stayed in touch?”

“No.”

“We had one dance and then I had to leave,” said Remus, “so we did not have much of a chance to talk. I haven’t seen much of either of them recently.” James had been distant for the past year, and Lily was always with him. Remus was not sure how things had fallen apart between them.

“Why did you have to leave?” asked Severus from his shadowy corner.

Remus didn’t know what to say. Sirius punching him in the face was only part of it. Gideon had stepped in to stop the brawl right away. Then, after the owl arrived from Dumbledore, he and Fabian had hustled Remus out the door of the reception hall before he could say his farewells to the bride or groom, or make amends with Sirius. Their team had been called into action, on a time sensitive case.

“I had to work,” Remus said.

“You are able to find work?” Severus asked, looking up.

Remus shrugged. _Dangerous, illegal, life-or-death work,_ he thought. "Of a sort." He was lucky that Dumbledore needed a few desperate, hungry members of the Order, willing to do the dirty work. People like him, and Gideon, and Fabian...

Remus was lost in thought staring into the fire when he felt a light brush along the side of his hand. Severus was absently running one finger along the fleshy part of his palm as it rested on the arm of the chair, looking intently at his hand. Remus stared at the connection between them. Severus caught himself at the same moment Remus noticed, and they both pulled their hands away and shifted in their chairs. As a cover for his surprise, Remus pretended he had moved in order to pull out his papers and tobacco to roll another cigarette. The touch hovered in the air around them.

“Care for one?” he asked Severus, hoping his voice sounded calmer than he felt. He hadn’t been touched by anyone for two years, not even in passing.

Severus nodded. “What sort?”

“Hmm?” asked Remus, trying to stay focused on the task before him.

“What sort of work do you find? The kind that ends with your robes soaked in blood?” asked Severus.

Remus sealed the rolling papers with his tongue in the silence, trying to decide what to say. His heart was still racing from the touch. “Yes, that sort of work,” he said at last, putting the two cigarettes into his mouth and lighting them both. He held one out to Severus, who reached across to take it from him, their fingers brushing. Remus felt the little rush of longing he had always felt watching a cigarette pass from his mouth to Severus’s.

As he smoked, Severus’s sleeve fell back and Remus caught a glimpse of an ugly wound on him inner arm.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing with his cigarette as he exhaled a plume of smoke. “You’re hurt.”

Severus hastily pulled his sleeve down. “It’s nothing.”

“It looks infected. Why don’t you let me give it a look. I’m quite good with caring for infected wounds, you know,” Remus said with a hint of smile.

“It is nothing, Lupin, really,” said Severus, a hard edge in his voice.

Remus eased off his chair and kneeled next to Severus, reaching for his arm. “No, it looked bad, Severus, let me see it. You could do permanent damage if you don’t get it treated.” He grabbed at Severus’s sleeve.

“Fucking sod off, wolf. It’s none of your business,” snapped Severus, pulling his arm away and grabbing Remus’s wrist with the other hand, hard enough to leave a mark.

The touch sent a flush to Remus’s cheeks. He released the sleeve, looking up at Severus. Dark eyes met his and held. Without thinking, Remus moved his free hand to touch Severus’s cheek. There was a brief moment in which they could have moved away from each other, but it passed, and then the rest was inevitable. Severus leaned down and Remus craned up to meet his lips in a hard, hungry kiss. Remus let his tongue linger over the curve of Severus’s teeth and the curl of his lips. He finally broke away.

“Shit,” whispered Severus, leaning his forehead against Remus’s.

“I missed you, too,” said Remus, smiling, and kissed him again.

“I didn’t think you wanted this anymore,” murmured Severus.

“Well, you might have asked, rather than just disappearing,” Remus replied, pressing his lips to Severus’s neck and inhaling his scent. “I didn’t think you wanted this either.” Remus _had_ wanted it, for two empty years. He ran his tongue along Severus’s ear, eliciting a small moan.

Without warning, Severus pulled away with a violent jerk, and Remus backed off, startled. “I don’t…I can’t want this anymore. Fuck.” He ran his fingers through his long hair and looked away, eyes wild.

Remus, whose body had responded immediately to Severus’s kiss, was breathing rapidly, and the sudden end of the kiss sent him reeling back. Something had just been stolen from him. Severus rose from the chair and started to pace the room.

“You will not even tell me who punched you, Lupin,” he said. “We do not even speak in full sentences to each other. There is nothing between us. We certainly cannot start all this nonsense again.”

“Nonsense?” Remus felt the loss of their kiss quickly turning to anger.

“Yes. Nonsense,” Severus said with a challenging glare. Remus's stomach clenched, and heat flooded his face.

"Everything that happened at school is nonsense now because I won't tell you who punched me?" Remus asked, voice rising.

Severus was silent, but his eyes were like cold mirrors.

“You want to know who punched me?” Remus asked, standing, tall and looming. “You want details? I’m happy to tell you. But then you have to tell me everything as well. Like why the hell you are here, and what is wrong with your arm, and why you were pointing your fucking wand at me from the doorway.” Remus pulled his own wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Severus for emphasis. Severus responded by doing the same, his expression unreadable.

“Agreed. Start talking, wolf.”

“Very well,” said Remus, red with anger. “After getting into a brawl with my former best friend, Sirius Black, while attending our friends’ wedding, myself and two of my closest colleagues, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, were lured into a trap set by a team of Death Eaters. Yes, Severus, I’m a werewolf, and my only chance for a paycheque is to risk my neck doing the dangerous shit for bloody Albus Dumbledore in the fight against the fucking forces of evil. Well, last night, after we fell for the trap, my two friends were murdered in front of me in a slow, gruesome, and bloody manner and I only managed to escape because several of the Death Eaters holding us were called away for a moment by a message from Voldemort himself. I was able to regain my wand, cast a _Confundus_ charm, and run. Now the Death Eaters will hunt me until they find me, as I saw two of them unmasked, and I am quite sure one of them is, right now, down in the pub waiting to kill me.” It felt like a weight soaring off his shoulders to say it aloud. “Your turn.”

Severus was pale white, the malevolent dark of his eyes on display. His voice, when he spoke, was cool and controlled.

“My turn? Very well. My best friend abandoned me for a man who, for sport, hurt and tormented me for seven years, and yesterday she married him. I decided it would be a good day to make my own commitment.” Severus pulled up his sleeve and let Remus get a good look at the fresh, red, blistering mark on his arm. Remus had seen the symbol that was now etched in Severus’s skin many times, hovering over morbid scenes of horror and death. Remus’s heart stopped.

Severus set his jaw and continued. “Last night at the ceremony, I promised, on pain of death, to complete any task I was given in order to show my loyalty. I was given a task, and I am in the midst of completing it. That man downstairs is there to be sure I do my job.”

Remus stared at him, light-headed, as he realized what Severus meant. 

“You are a Death Eater.”

“Yes.”

“Your task is to find and kill me.”

“Yes,” Severus said without flinching.

“Or you will be killed.”

“Yes.”

"So you will have to kill me.”

“I will.”

The two men stood face-to-face, wands drawn. Time seemed to stop. Remus was suspended in the moment: the smell of the fire, the curl of cigarette smoke, the scent of Severus’s tangy sweat, the sticky remains of Gideon’s blood on his skin, the feel of Severus’s lips still imprinted on his.

They were poised on a precipice, and Remus did not know which way they would fall.

He stared at the tapered point of Severus’s wand, aimed at his chest, capable of taking his life with two short words, and at once the entire situation came into crisp focus. He immediately felt something bubbling up in him. Remus knew he would not be able to stop it, even as he tried. It overwhelmed him and then overflowed.

Laughter. Deep belly laughter, loud and purging. Remus doubled over, dropping his wand to the floor, snorting, and cracking, and trying to breathe.

“Lupin, what the…?” said Severus, eyebrows knit, still holding his attack position, wand slightly lowered.

Remus gestured to Severus with one arm, trying to regain some control. He took a deep breath, but then looked up at Severus’s stern face and dissolved into laughter again, collapsing to the floor.

"Stop laughing," said Severus, eyes fierce, clearly affronted.

"I'm trying...I'm...sorry..." snorted Remus, clutching at his chest in between chuckles and trying to rise.

“This isn’t humorous, Lupin,” said Severus, who broke his pose and leaned over Remus, helping to pull him up.

“Yes it bloody well is,” he said, catching his breath. “You have to kill me.” He doubled over again. “Or perhaps I’ll kill you!" His body shook.

“Lupin, really, I’m not joking,” Severus said, eyebrows knit in confusion.

Remus stood to meet Severus’s eyes again; he was unable to remove the broad smile from his face.

“It’s comic genius, Severus. You, the tragic hero, abandoned by your beloved friend and driven to join a power-crazed maniac, plotting revenge. But, oh! A cruel turn of fate traps you, and now you must kill your former lover on pain of death." He laughed again, and Severus frowned. "It’s some sort of bad novel, Severus, and we are the main characters,” Remus had regained his composure, but retained his smile. “Admit it, it is funny.” He touched Severus’s cheek.

“This is not a novel. This is really happening, Lupin.”

Remus swept his arms around the resistant Severus, pulled him close, and kissed him, hard and long and deep, with the smile still lighting up his face. “No, _this_ is really happening, Severus. All that other shite is happening outside of this room. Right here, right now, _this_ is happening. Please, Severus, please, we have to laugh at the rest.”

“You are exhausted and delirious,” said Severus with a frown.

“No doubt,” said Remus.

“What is your suggestion? We simply pretend that large man is not downstairs waiting to kill us both, but instead sip tea, chat, and grapple with each other in front of the fire until morning?”

“Let the record show that to be your suggestion, not mine,” said Remus with a laugh. “But I accept your proposition.” He kissed Severus again.

“We cannot…”

“Why the hell not?” Remus snapped. “Last night, I watched two of the best men I know slaughtered in front of my eyes. I am still covered in their blood. If I didn’t already have ample evidence from my own experience that life is too short to waste a moment, yesterday was a hard and vicious reminder. I’ve missed you for two years, Severus, and somehow you are here right now.” Remus was able, at last, to still his face and calm his breathing. He touched Severus’s hair and ran his thumb along his cheek. “Unless you want to kill me?”

Severus breathed out slowly. “No.”

“Then don’t.”

There was a silence as Remus watched Severus think over his choices. At last his shoulders relaxed slightly and he spoke.

“How do you propose we escape with our lives then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Remus ran one hand over the crust of dried blood on his own chest, and a shiver of rage raced through him. He met Severus’s eyes. “I suppose we’ll have to kill him.”

“Kill him,” Severus repeated.

“Your Death Eater friend down stairs. Or more precisely, I will have to kill him.” Remus dropped his arms to his sides. 

“I’ve never…” Severus spoke haltingly. Remus realized what he was trying to say.

“You’ve never killed anyone? Well, aren’t you the lucky one. He’ll be my fourth. This will only work if it appears I got away from you both after a good fight, so I’d be the one to do the deed anyhow.”

Severus stood back from Remus, his expression empty, for a full minute. Then he said, “How shall we do it?”

“You pursue me into the pub, and when our hooded companion rises to help you, you silently bind him and I’ll do the rest. Just be sure no witnesses see you cast the spell,” Remus said and then paused, suddenly unable to breathe. He and Gideon had taken out a Death Eater with them same strategy a month earlier. Now Gideon was dead. The reality of it all blasted into him again and the nauseating memory of the previous night roared back. He shuddered.

The look on Severus’s face was a mixture of horror, surprise, and lust, his dark brows pulled together and his wide nostrils flared. “You would…” he started, and then stopped and raised his hand to Remus’s cheek.

“I would. I will,” replied Remus, and without a breath, Severus lunged forward and pulled Remus into a heated kiss, open-mouthed and wet. Remus was overwhelmed with the intensity, and the discordant emotion of the moment made his knees weak. 

Severus broke away, panting, his dark anxious eyes searing Remus. “I did not know it was you, Lupin,” he said quietly, “until I walked into the pub. He must have known. I did not conceive he would be so cruel to a sworn Death Eater." Severus swallowed hard. "That was an error.”

“There is always a way out, Severus,” Remus said, reaching for Severus’s arm.

“I am not sure that there is, not for me. Not anymore,” Severus replied. Remus ran a rough finger along Severus's collar.

“Well, there is for us, tonight,” Remus said. “Perhaps that is enough.” Remus’s hand brushed up Severus's back, and he felt the body in front of him stiffen and then relax.

Slowly, Severus’s arms wrapped around Remus. “Perhaps,” he said. “No promises.” 

“Will you spend a few hours with me now? I believe our victim will wait for us,” said Remus in a thick, husky voice.

“I will stay,” said Severus. He smiled, his rare, thin smile. They stood still for a long moment, and then Severus leaned in and claimed Remus’s mouth with his, softly, pulling him close.

When they broke apart, Severus's eyes glittered darkly, and a new soft tone was in his voice. “So, Black punched you, did he?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” said Remus, raising an eyebrow.

“I might want to hear more of that story, especially if you managed to get in any good blows,” said Severus. 

“That isn’t a joke, is it Severus? Not at a time like this?” asked Remus in mock horror, smiling. The corners of Severus’s mouth twitched.

A distant church bell chimed midnight.

“Listen to that. It’s Christmas,” Remus said, turning his head to the window.

“This will be a memorable one, I believe,” replied Severus.

“Perhaps Clive will send up some drinks for us?” said Remus, tangling his arms more firmly around Severus.

“Lupin, don’t be ridiculous. We are only pretending that this is at all normal. You do know that, don’t you?” Severus asked, easing them towards the bed. “This cannot possibly end well. I am a Death Eater now. We are likely to be killed, either tonight, or as this war goes on. We may end up killing each other some other horrible day, by the end.”

“Shhh…Christmas, remember?” said Remus, silencing Severus with a finger across his mouth.

“I detest holidays,” Severus said, pulling them down onto the bed. 

“Perhaps I can convince you otherwise,” said Remus. As they arranged themselves into a comfortable heap on the lumpy bed, Remus pulled up Severus's sleeve and ran his finger along the ugly wound on Severus's arm. Severus shivered.

"Don't."

"It is a part of you now," said Remus. "I want to know it. It is only a symbol."

"That is a foolish thought." Severus had not pulled his arm away. "Symbols are powerful."

"Then take what I'm doing as the symbol that it is." Remus leaned in a kissed the angry red welts of the Dark Mark. His sensitive lips burned with the heat of the wound, and he let his fingers drift up to Severus’s throat, unbuttoning his collar as he moved against Severus’s lanky, pliant body. “Just marks and lines, Severus. We all have them.”

“No more talk,” said Severus sternly. 

“Ah. Time for the Grand Ah-whoom?” Remus murmured into Severus’s skin.

“ _Grand Ah-whoom_? Good lord, Lupin, don’t tell me you’ve been reading bloody Vonnegut again?” Severus asked, lacing one hand into Remus’s hair, pulling his cardigan up with the other in order to gain access to the skin of Remus’s broad back.

“ _Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything_ ,” replied Remus, finishing with Severus’s buttons and pulling the black fabric aside in order to gain access to his smooth, sinewy body. “It is my quote for the day.”

“Fuck, Lupin, you are such a cynic,” said Severus, and Remus looked up in disbelief. 

“And you aren’t?”

“I said nothing of the sort, wolf,” retorted Severus. 

“In that case, what about this one? It is another of my favorites,” Remus said, occupied with Severus’s chest, running his tongue over his dark nipples with each word, making Severus let out little moans of pleasure. “Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.” 

Severus snorted. It was close enough. 

Remus pulled up for a minute, looking down at the man he was ready to kill or die for, as he lay, vulnerable and naked and almost-smiling beneath him. 

Fighting his fatigue, he smiled back, and then tumbled down onto his lover, his enemy, searching for a way to keep laughing.


End file.
